The Process of Grief
by Carpe Nocturne
Summary: Emma Swan and the five stages of grief after she's released from prison. Captain Swan if you turn your head and squint. Excerpt: "She keeps a police scanner in the kitchen and listens to it as much as she can, both hoping and dreading that she'll hear his name or description over the airwaves."


Picking up the old VW Beetle is the first thing Emma does after she's released from prison. It is sitting in the very back of the impound lot at the Phoenix police station looking almost exactly the same as it had the last time she saw it. There's a thin layer of dirt and grime covering the fading paint but it's still the same car and as much of a home as she's ever had. She's changed so much since then so it's nice to see that the car has gone through some changes of its own.

It starts up without any problems and Emma pulls out of the lot.

**Denial and Isolation**

Emma spends the next few months in Phoenix waitressing and doing odd jobs around the city. She distances herself from her coworkers, ignoring their invites to hang out after work and explore the city. It's not like she's going to be there long anyway, so what's the point? She tells no one about her stint in jail or the man who put her there despite everyone's insisting and prying. All they need to know about her is that she arrives to work on time, that she's nice to the customers, and that her orders are correct.

She does her best to forget about Neal. About waking up next to him and stealing with him and how he loved it when she wore her hair in a ponytail. Oh God how she tries to forget all of his quirks and his smiles and how she finally felt wanted when she was with him but somehow it always comes back to the forefront of her mind. Especially when customers are few and the work day is slow or she's in bed. The whispers come quietly in the night. "_Neal would never leave you," _and, "_He's waiting for you somewhere and you're wasting time staying in this godforsaken town_."

Sometimes her resolve breaks and she searches that stupid yellow Beetle until her fingers are bleeding from scrambling under the seats and inside crevices, looking for anything that might be a clue to where he is and why he left her. There are rips in the worn out leather from her nails and scuffs on the doors from her brutal searches. One night, she's close to ripping out the seats when she finds it. It's crumpled and stuck between the center console and the passenger seat and it's so wrinkled that the writing on the front is barely legible. She picks it up and realizes it's a road map. There's a big circle surrounding the dot on the map that represents Tallahassee and her knees crumple. She breaks down right in the motel parking lot in the middle of the day but she doesn't care because of course Neal would never leave her. How could she be so stupid to think that he would? She wants to yell it from the rooftops, let the whole world know how great it feels to know that he proved her wrong.

She works even harder over the course of the next three months until she saves up just enough money to pay for gas and the best food that all the fast food restaurants and gas stations between Arizona and Florida might have to offer. She can sleep in the Bug-it's not anything she hasn't done before. And as she leaves behind the seedy motel she's been living in for the past six months, Emma tries not to think about how she could possibly be leaving her son behind in this desert town. His first cries already echo in her head whenever she lies down to sleep at night and there's a relentless ache in her stomach gnawing at her resolve to not look for him. She leaves behind the city that has changed her life forever, the city that holds her greatest failure, and points her car in the direction of Tallahassee.

**Anger**

The further she gets from Phoenix, the angrier Emma gets. It starts out as a small bubble of frustration and blossoms in her chest. She can't believe she has to drive almost completely across the country just to go meet him. _Neal's_ the one who left her, _Neal's_ the one who didn't get rid of the stupid watches after he stole them, why does _she_ have to go through all this trouble? This is definitely not her fault.

About an hour outside of Austin, Texas, she's so furious that she's amazed that steam isn't coming out of her ears like Donald Duck in some of those old Mickey Mouse cartoons. How fucking dare he do this to her? What kind of asshole leaves their pregnant girlfriend in prison? And for a crime _he_ committed! He didn't even come to visit her! He had to have known where she was because he left her this stupid car! This stupid car that barely passes as a car anyway, it sputters and stalls all the damn time and she's sick of it and sick of Neal and sick of thinking about all the things she shared with him.

She gets so mad at one point that she has to pull over onto the side of the road to avoid going extremely over the speed limit or causing a wreck due to her rage. She sits there in the driver's seat, her labored breaths echoing in the silence of the car, until suddenly it all comes rushing out and she's hitting the steering wheel as hard as she possibly can, slamming her hands against the hard leather and unforgiving steel until she's sure her hands are bruised. This isn't an anger Emma is familiar with. This rage is primal and vibrating with sheer unadulterated loathing. She feels it boiling in her chest and she almost can't breathe from the weight of it all.

Emma throws the door open and bursts out of the car. It's close to 6pm and the landscape is painted in shadows and the pink rays of the sun, the Beetle almost orange in the dying light. Gulping down mouthfuls of the dry desert air, she starts to pace a perimeter around the car, continuing to take her anger out on the tires whenever a brief surge of frustration bubbles up into her throat.

Just who the hell did he think he was? Why in the world is she actually going back to this asshole? She's spent years by herself, why is it so important that she get back to him?

A groan of frustration escapes from her mouth and she pulls at her hair, desperate to do something with her hands. She finally stops and manages to calm herself by slowly breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her heartbeat slows and the anger subsides until it's nothing more than an ember, still there and still glowing but not quite as hot. She rubs a still shaking hand over her face, takes one last deep breath in, and finally returns to the car. She still hopes to find Neal in Tallahassee, but now there's also a desperate need to punch the smile right off of his face as soon as she see him. What she'll do after that she doesn't know, but that's a thought for when she's further down the road. Emma takes one last look at the landscape and pulls back onto I-40 towards Austin.

By the time she reaches the city limits, she's still not completely sure if that explosion of anger was directed more at Neal or at herself.

**Bargaining**

Her next stop is New Orleans. She rolls down the windows and breathes in the fresh air as she drives into town. The humidity is much heavier here than she is used to and it quickly feels like she's taken a dip in the Mississippi fully clothed. Her legs are sticking to the leather of the driver's seat and her hair is turning into a wavy, frizzy mess but she doesn't care. She keeps the windows down and the radio blaring because she's one state closer to her destination and it just feels right after so many long hours spent in this ridiculous old car.

She decides to take a break and spoil herself and parks the car a few blocks away from the French Quarter. Everything is so old and just so perfectly… well, Southern. She passes several bars, avoiding drunken stragglers as they stumble from onebuilding to another, strings of multicolored (and sometimes lewd) beads draping their necks even though Mardi Gras is months away. It feel like everything is somehow historical in this town, but Emma enjoys taking in each of the placards as she walks. The white steeple of St. Louis Cathedral looms overhead as she nears Jackson Square and soon the sweet smell of coffee and beignets permeates the air and fills her with a warmth she hasn't experienced in ages. Emma walks around the square for a bit and admires the artwork and artists that surround the main garden in the middle until the scents pouring out from Café Du Monde prove too much of a temptation and she gives in and joins the line. It's not like you can get these anywhere.

As soon as she is seated, she relaxes into her chair and orders a hot chocolate (her favorite) and some beignets. The café is full of families and tourists, all laughing and blowing powdered sugar at each other. She smiles for the first time in a year. Emma takes a sip of her hot chocolate and falls into the rhythm of music playing nearby. Her hands are sticky from the sugar and chocolate and she can't remember the last time she was this happy. A laugh breaks her reverie and looks up to find a mother and son two tables over laughing at the powdered sugar mustaches that cover their faces.

In all honesty, the mother looks nothing like her. Where Emma has blonde, wavy hair, this woman has dark and straight. The woman is tan where Emma is pale and curvy in areas where Emma is not. The boy has his back to her so she can't see his face but she swears to God his hair is almost the exact same color as Neal's and it takes her breath away. She will never have a moment like this with her son. She will never share hot chocolate with him (Will he like cinnamon in his just like her, or will he prefer coffee when he gets older like Neal does?) or brush his hair back from his face or hug him. The beignets turn to ashes in her mouth, the hot chocolate thickening like tar as it makes its way down her throat. She drops the money she owes on the table and leaves quickly.

The shadow of St. Louis Cathedral stretches across the cobblestones as Emma drops down onto one of the benches outside of the café. She takes a deep breath and drops her head into her hands. She refuses to cry. It feels like she's been crying ever since she got out of that goddamn prison months ago and she's tired of it.

The church bells ringing out startle her. She's never been one for religion (Too many bible-thumping hypocritical foster families and you kind of get tired of it.) but in the shade of one of the most famous cathedrals in the nation, Emma Swan finally breaks down and sends out a silent prayer.

_Lord, I know we haven't had the greatest relationship, but if you just help me find Neal, I will make this right. Please Lord, give me this one thing and I'll never ask for anything else._

The church bells quiet, the zydeco music picks up again, and Emma Swan heads back to the yellow Bug.

**Depression**

She spends three years in Tallahassee looking for Neal. She settles down in a small apartment complex, which is thankfully cheap and clean, picks up a job as a bartender and spends the rest of her time searching high and low for the man who left her. She keeps a police scanner in the kitchen and listens to it as much as she can, both hoping and dreading that she'll hear his name or description over the airwaves. She doesn't really know what she'll do if one day she does actually hear about him over the scanner but she still listens to it nonetheless.

When she has a day off, Emma gets in the car and makes the two-hour drive down to the beach. During the summer months, the beaches are covered in tourists from Alabama all the way to Arkansas and it's hard for her to find a spot to think. However, during the transitional months of September and October, some of the beaches are almost completely empty (except for the occasional local). She settles into the snow-white sand and stares out into the water and imagines what it would be like to just float away from everything. To just hop on a boat and go explore the world, to stop worrying about Neal and the son she left behind in a Phoenix hospital, to finally let herself relax. What adventures could she find on the open water? She'd always loved the idea of being a pirate or boat bum ever since she'd read Peter Pan when she was younger (she still kept a copy of the book on her night stand back at home). While Captain Hook had been the villain and she had most certainly despised him with every bit of her young self, she had also been enamored with the idea of freedom that sailing on a pirate ship had offered.

It's the middle of September and the beach is quiet around her, the water lapping up on to the sand as the waves come in and out. She thinks back on the life she's built here and how very different it is from the life she was promised. The weight of the past three years settles heavily on her shoulders, so heavy and thick that it's almost tangible. Every decision, every disappointment plays before her eyes. They are slow at first, starting with her time with Neal and it's almost like she's watching some twisted romantic comedy that doesn't have the happy ending the audience wants. The months spent in jail are much faster, almost a blur, even the birth of her son is nothing more than a flash before her eyes. The past years slow down again and all she sees is desperation and false hope ever moves she makes.

So finally, after almost four years searching for this man that abandoned her, Emma Swan allows herself to mourn. The sadness hits her like a wave, washing over her body until she's hunched over and sobbing into her bent knees. She mourns for the life she could have had, the son she left behind, the small slip of innocence she had when she first met Neal, and for every tear she never shed. The years of pain and hurt flow out of her trembling body until all she can do is lie back in the sand and stare at the sky. Her mind is gloriously blank for the first time in what feels like forever. She lies for what seems like hours upon hours and has no idea how long it really is.

Eventually, Emma picks herself up off the sand and goes home. She spends the rest of the night curled up in bed, thinking over what to do next and where to go, knowing that she'll do nothing but stall out in this town if she doesn't leave soon. All the possibilities float around in her head until she finally drifts off to sleep. That night she dreams of ships and ocean spray and pixie dust.

**Acceptance**

Emma puts in her two-week notice and starts to pack up her apartment. She doesn't have much anyway and she sells everything that won't fit in her car. It does nothing but serve as a reminder of how this whole adventure began, but she can't bring herself to get rid of it. It still holds good memories and is the closest thing to a home she's ever had, so she keeps it, making sure it's all checked out for the long road that might be ahead of her and taking it through the car wash just to be extra nice. She even hangs a lemon air freshener off the rearview mirror (though she quickly takes it out when the smell gets way too strong).

On her way out of town, she stops by a gas station and picks up another map and a box of snack cakes for the road. As she fills the yellow bug, Emma spreads her map across the hood, closes her eyes and places her index finger down on the map. At first it lands in the middle of a forest in Maine, but since there is no town listed, she closes her eyes and tries again.

It lands on Boston.


End file.
